


Happy Happy Shepard

by Another_ficer



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Amputation, F/F, Mass Effect Spoilers, Parent/Child Incest, Torture, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Another_ficer/pseuds/Another_ficer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since just about anything related to evil/nymphomaniac/dominatrix Shepard has been already made, I'd like to contribute to this wonderful community (I'm that kind of a person) with something I consider original.</p><p>A truly mentally deranged Jocelyn Shepard, sugar on the outside, dominating the shadows. If you're a female, don't turn your back on her, because she'll stab you with a tranquilizer needle. You can guess the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Jocelyn Shepard had an almost impeccable record. Since she was rescued by the System Alliance from the Skyllian Blitz where her parents were MIA and declared dead, Jocelyn had been taken into the Alliance's military and trained as the best of the best. Yet despite her sad background, she was a bundle of joy and happiness, helping where possible civilians and military, human and alien alike. None who met her could say a harsh word of her. She had done her missions flawlessly, with grace some would say. Most recently, she had rescued the proud Spectre Nihlus from the rogue Saren and recovered a Prothean beacon intact, that was since moved to the fortified world of Thessia, complicating greatly Saren's plans, whatever they were. Not even the Council could deny her claims that something worse would come, those, by some descriptions, obtrusive bureaucrats that otherwise bowed to no one and believed none without conclusive proof.

There were only two blemishes on her record, though nothing official came of it. For one, the batarians hated her with a vengeance just for being human. They considered human cattle no better than vorcha or krogan only fitting to be under the whip. When told to her face by the batarian ambassador, she had smiled a genuine, and later described as sorrowful, smile towards him. The galaxy wept openly at her diplomatic skills and understanding.

The second was her favoritism for female undercompetent crew. Why was this claimed? Because the few females she had worked with over the years and personally commended ended up dead sooner or later. Some generals wanted an inquiry on that, but she had too many backers and this was easily dismissed.

They all mourned her death.

But a few men and women had the power to undo that. Which they did.

Which suited Jocelyn just fine.

As she awoke on the Cerberus vessel, she remember all the way to her childhood.

She had grown up with normal parents, on a normal colony world. She had been happy all her young life, but she always felt something was missing. She had went through the normal childhood period of catching roaches and slowly ripping off their legs and watching in fascinations as they wiggled to escape. She had been told that it was wrong and, seeing the adult's face, had pretended she understood, but she didn't, she really didn't. But from that episode, she had learned to pretend. Not to ask questions and explore for herself. And to plan and not get caught.

She had planned to take the neighbor's cat for an "experiment", but then _they_ hit. The Invaders. The "four eyed freaks", as her fellows called it. She would not forget that time. It opened her eyes.

To the beauty of the universe. To what she was missing.

At some point in the panic to evacuate, she had been split up from her parents. She was in the ruins of the outskirs of a city that they had taken to what they believed would still be a functional space port. For her five years of age, she should have been scared. But she was only curios and saw wonder in the "visitors". She would learn to curse their name and pretend to actually hate them to the right ears. She found it hard to pretend anything else than her natural cheerfulness, but the good thing was that once she could, she could pretend to hate or be offended by just anything and anyone. That first roach really changed her.

And now, these new walking roaches would change her perspective forever. How ironic, she mused, that they would hate her when all she held was appreciation for them.

As she stayed hidden and approached the commotion, her eyes lit up like saucers. Pinned between three four-eyed monstrosities was a beautiful woman, moaning, crying, fighting feebly. She was blond and had fair, apparently smooth skin. She was completely naked and was apparently chocked or... stuffed with some devices by the batarians in front of her mouth and from behind. A third one was putting a collar on her neck while they were doing it, which she would later learn it was probably filled with explosives to keep the new slave in check.

But what Jocelyn found most enjoyable was her struggles and her torment. It made her heart race faster and made her seem... complete. This was something that she realised she wanted to witness all her life, to _inflict_ all her life on something so beautiful. She didn't know why that was and would probably never know, but she understood it and drooled at the thought. She watched with rapt attention as they continued... pumping whatever they were into her faster and faster until they all groaned, and the woman cried harder now, white foam drooling from her mouth and back hole. She only got a second to look at the alien members and wondered if these were batarian specific body growths for this torture or if human males had them too. She would have to learn eventually, such was her inquisitive mind. But she also realised she had to be careful how and who she asked. If nobody told her about this until now, perhaps humans wouldn't like it.

She continued watching them inflicting pain and humiliation on the woman, getting a high every time she witnessed such an action. Eventually, they left with their broken and collared slave, and went to one of their improvised camps. She followed them and as more and more four-eyed aliens were congregating, bringing wretched humans, mostly women.

Some were maimed, naked or half-clothed, beaten, almost broken. They were put in chains around their collars and loaded upon the batarian ships, some with a dead-eye in them, some struggling in vain, some in hopes that their collars would detonate. For most it was hell.

For Jocelyn it was heaven. She was seeing angels cast down from the heavens by devils and she enjoyed the view oh-so-very-much.

She stayed around the camp for days, hiding between the rubble, high on the euphoria of what she was seeing. A part of her knew that if people knew she was enjoying this, they wouldn't trust her or would treat her as these things treated humans. But she couldn't help it and she had no reason to deny her feelings. A few times she had even considered surrendering to the batarians and letting them have their way with her, if she could live these sights forever it would be worth it. But she had seen those the batarians didn't like for one reason or another, sometimes just on a whim, be killed. Jocelyn had frowned each time and could only think one thing: such a waste! She had survived by stealing rations from here and there and then hiding before either human or alien could see her. She couldn't risk dying so young, not now, not when she found her calling! Her pleasure!

Many of the ships had been loaded while others returned to be filled and leave, and it all seemed like a never-ending dream for Jocelyn, until the first batarian hit the floor, dead. She frowned, she had seen on the way there skirmishes between humans and batarians, this was probably some lone sni-

Another shot rang out and screams could be heard, human screams, but not from the captured, no, she had enjoyed as she saw them break, as their vocal cords were cut, or things from between their legs, or eyes gouged out, or other body parts. No, these were not the screaming type anymore, not the scream of rage she heard. That meant... dammit...

And indeed, her dream was destroyed just like that with the human "cavalry" coming to the rescue of the beleaguered humans. She had seen boys play Cowboys and Indians and she didn't understand it at the time. Now she wished the Indians would win. But alas, it was not to be.

The humans eventually invaded the make-shift camp and drove the four-eyes away, but not before they could load up a hefty number of people on this shuttles and fly off. At least she could live with the images of what would happen to those people.

After everything had calmed down and the human marines were triaging the former hostages, Jocelyn sighed and decided there was not much sense to stand there until she remained alone.

She crept through the ruins, then positioned at the end of the camp and sat down, head between her legs, just enough to be spotted by her brilliant red hair but pretending to be distressed like the rest of them.

After a few minutes of wondering what was taking so long, she got startled by a hand on her shoulder. She jumped up and looked, somewhat genuinely frightened in the eyes of the big, grizzled man.

Commander Anderson realised his mistake and raised his hands in a placating gesture, trying to calm her down.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, I'm human." Yeah right, like that doesn't make me hate you, she thought, but kept quiet and looked at him suspiciously. She would later find it hilarious that she was more weary after they'd been "rescued" than during the "raid". Still understandable to her, but hilarious.

"I'm Anderson. And you?"

"Jocelyn. Jocelyn Shepard." She would later almost regret being so stupid in telling him her family name. If he hadn't been so smitten with her apparent innocence, she'd have been returned to her dull old parents.

"Do you know where your parents are, Jocelyn?"

"No." She bit her lip. "I don't want to go back there." She slipped out.

Anderson looked confused and for a second she realised her mistake, saw the anger on his face, pretended to be frightened, but to her surprised, this made him take a step back. What was he thinking, she had wondered then.

Of course, with another burst of hilarity, she could see now what. He had wondered what kind of monsters would scare a little girl more than the boogiemen batarians from space destroying her town. That or she couldn't bring herself to think of their fates. He decided he wouldn't force her into any of those situations. But what to do?...

"Jocelyn..." He said slowly, trying to move around the subject. "Would you like to avenge them? To avenge everybody here?" He spread his arms to show the homeless, starving, ragged people around.  
"Yeah?..." Jocelyn played along.  
He came to her, took her in her arms and hugged her. "Then you will, honey. I promise, I'll give you the chance to do it."  
Jocelyn almost snickered after putting 2 and 2 together. This tough man would make her strong too, under the pretense of saving humans? She could work with that. Oh yes, she could work with that.

Commander Anderson had no idea what monster he would unleash upon the Galaxy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much smut, just something I've been sitting on for months and haven't had the urge to update. Maybe someday I'll revisit this story and write some more on it.

Jocelyn Shepard walked happily out of the _Normandy SSV 2_ onto Omega. She had gathered her team as well as she could. Already she drooled over Miranda and Jack, but all in due time. She had learned from experience that waiting could be good for "business".

Miranda Lawson watched her go, impressed by the Commander/Spectre's resolution, open-mindedness and greatness in general. She really was a human to look up to for her, confident yet with a heart unmarred by hate, even for the vile xenos. She was the human martyr that yet didn't sacrifice herself for humanity except in the direst of the situations. She had seen Jocelyn introduce all manner of aliens into their quest, and yet making it feel so right. She always had a warm word for Cerberus executive and alien alike. She could drive aliens into suicide missions for humanity and convince them they were doing it for their race and their personal gain, which never ceased to amaze Miranda. She was happy that the last two years of her life were not in vain.

Shepard went to the special ward alone, the worst of the worst that none had a name for it, only that they didn't dare go there. Few, Shepard included, could stomach what was inside, and dare to walk back again. It was a batarian slave camp of sorts, being left alone even by Aria during her rule. The fact that Shepard had so much authority on even such a part of the station did not escape many of Omega's inhabitants.

She greeted the batarians warmly, who to their credit didn't seem surprised to see her alive. The rumors of her being with Cerberus were far-fetched, but then again, they had to take a look at what they thought was the "real Shepard" and hadn't dared to tell anyone about her, but they could believe her changing alliegences more than others.

Shepard walked merrily towards her own "special room". It didn't feel like over two years since she had visited it, it only felt like the few weeks she had spent gathering her new team, but she knew for them it would be over two years. Over two years without her. She also knew every news about her would be displayed. It was the way she liked it. Even if she had really died, they would always remember her and why they were here. It was her gift for them for their remaining years either way.

But now that she had made herself announced, she knew they had been prepared, again the way she liked it. She entered the room and was not disappointed.

In the center of the hangar-sized room was her own mother, Hannah Shepard, impaled on a dildo-pole, moaning in pleasure and expectation. She was the only one she had allowed to be fully broken, maybe in a way to respect their former mutual love. He had no arms and legs and was bare naked, but that did not seem to bother her. Not anymore anyway. When she saw her daughter, her eyes lit with a fire of a lover, as well as they should. She could talk, but she would not unless ordered by her daughter, her mistress. The welts and scars on her body merely made Jocelyn lick her lips more and chew on them, almost drawing blood.

Again she remembered her life before with all this, with David as a "father". Fortunately for her, he was single and a career man through and through. She would leave her for days, even weeks, to do as she wanted, which she relished. She had taken the name Anderson until she was 18, so as to not attract attention on her former heritage or from her former parents. To the world, she was just a nameless orphan that Anderson had taken under his wing. Being left alone with the extranet had opened her eyes even more, and she had easily become proficient at all the techniques of gathering information that could be made available through this system, which were a lot. She had read about the "Skyllian Atrocity", about the "Butchers of Elysium" and all she dreamed about was returning somehow to such a state of affairs. She expanded her range of information about batarian raids, but was careful to cover her tracks in care someone asked why she was interested in such subjects. She could simply say she was researching the batarian slaver mentality to thwart them, but it was easier if she didn't need to explain anything at all.

As she grew, she trained with her foster dad and his friends, enrolled in military academies, everything she could do so she wouldn't be stopped from fulfilling her dream if it came to that. Anderson thought it was her way of coping and encouraged her military career with pride.

Eventually, after making enough military connections, as well as on the other side through of the batarians through aliases, she started her greatest project yet. She had tracked her parents, living in some hovel, heart broken on the loss of their daughter. Aww, how touching. She had known how hard it was for batarian victims to face those fears again, and that gave her even greater pleasure than when one was captured for the first time. So it was easier than expected to hire a batarian party to take Hannah Shepard when her husband was away. A simple deal of chloroform and she was put to sleep, an excuse of a package delivery and she was shipped out of her own home. Batarians looks the same to neighbors, so nobody was suspicious. And so Hannah Shepard's ordeal began.

Jocelyn, as the contractor, got a front seat view on a tasteful couch put behind an interrogation-style one-way mirror as Hannah Shepard was undressed naked and tied to manacles on the ceiling in the bare torture room.


End file.
